


Allure Art

by salacious



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluffy and punny, Please ignore the crappy summary, it's just smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-02 03:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14535747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salacious/pseuds/salacious
Summary: In which Steve and Natasha use their bodies to create a masterpiece.





	Allure Art

**Author's Note:**

> This might have more parts added to it later, which is why the summary is so vague and...dry. Special thanks to @Swietek93 for inspiring this...thing. Hope y'all enjoy! xx
> 
> I claim no ownership; these lovely characters belong to Marvel.

**Allure Art:** _Cold War_

_~*~_

It could have been the way he woke her up.

A brush in hand and a wistful glaze in his eyes. He moved the bristles along the naked plane of her shoulder, connecting the freckles on her back at first and then pressing gentle kisses to the invisible artwork.

It could have been the look in his eyes when she finally woke up and turned her head to look at him. The corner of her lips curved in a half-smile and he was left breathless.

The contrast of her bright red hair against the white pillows was almost too much for him. She was the epitome of a goddess and all she had done was smile at him.

The sunlight brightened her hair, giving it honeyed highlights and bronzed colours that he desperately wanted to capture on paper in case his eidetic memory ever failed him. He probably wouldn’t get the right shade of colours, nothing could come slightly close to how beautiful she was, but he would attempt for the sake of trying.

It could have been the way she knew exactly what he was thinking. Years of being partners had given her a rather insightful glimpse into Steve Rogers’ mind and it was one of her favourite places to lose herself within.

His eyes were so expressive, even when he didn’t mean to be. Even when he tried to hide his emotions with techniques she tried to teach him, he was an opened book to her.

It filled her with pride and a bit of...smugness.

He had wanted to paint her many times and she posed for him whenever he asked. Even caught him sketching her on napkins or the little envelopes laying around.

But this?  _This_  was different.

Steve Rogers wanted more than to capture her beauty on paper, and she could tell. She wasn’t a master interrogator for nothing!

It  _maybe_  was the way his eyes worshipped her body and silently begged her to use her body as a canvas.

She wasn’t opposed to the idea; the foreplay would be amazing and just seeing the contented smile on his face afterwards would be enough of a reward.

But something told her that Steve wouldn’t ask. Not yet. He needed to build up the courage to tell his girlfriend how badly he wanted to colour the lines of her body and use different shades to adorn her skin.

Who would have thought that Captain America would be the one to have an art kink?

It was  _definitely_  the way he kissed her after she mentioned edible body paint.

“A fucking art kit,” Natasha scoffed under her breath, slightly smiling as she grabbed the box from the floor and held it tightly to her chest.

As much as she would have loved the look of horror on Tony’s face when he realised just what  _kind_  of art they were about to do, she knew Steve would’ve enjoyed the privacy. So, she got the art kit sent to one of her safe houses and prepped everything for the evening.

Her original plan for their day was to cook dinner together, but the kit arrived a day earlier than expected and she was way too excited to stick to their plan.

After she sent him a quick text to  _immediately_  meet her at the safe-house, she sorted through the box and double-checked the materials.

Two pairs of comfy white slippers, a cotton canvas, the three colours she chose, a sponge and a protective plastic covering with instructions on “how to have the perfect night.”

It was a little cheesy, but she would be lying if she didn’t admit that she was excited. She had checked the reviews, making sure that her purchase wouldn’t be in vain, but everyone seemed extremely satisfied.

The reviews warned her that the paint was very cold and to warm them in hot water before using them and that the paint dried in about five minutes. Apparently the clean up led to more sexual aspects of the activity.

Steve arrived shortly after she finished setting up the protective plastic cover and poured herself a glass of wine. He rushed through the door, almost barrelling through it and looked for Natasha with frantic eyes.

“Are you alright?” He cupped her cheeks, his eyes searching for any sign that she was hurt. She was wearing a black silk robe and was standing barefoot, a sight worth drooling over, but he would allow himself the licentious thoughts once he was sure of her wellbeing.

She frowned, pouting her lips slightly in confusion as they parted. “What? Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

He sighed, his broad frame immediately relaxing. “You told me to get here as fast as I could, but then you weren’t answering my calls and I thought something happened.” His thumb brushed against the corner of her lip affectionately. He was staring at her as if he were afraid that she would disappear, and he would need to engrain every detail of her into his memory.

“Oh,” she smiled cheekily, “I was so busy with your surprise that I didn’t pay attention. I’m sorry. It wasn’t an emergency text and you know that if that had been the case, I would have been more-”

His lips pressed against hers desperately, he needed to make sure that she was real, that she was still there, and he wasn’t just picturing her to make himself feel better. It was a mixture of teeth and tongue; a passionate lock of lips that said just how much he loved her.

Once his frenzied emotions calmed, he pressed his forehead against hers and breathed in deeply.

“Steve…” she smiled, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the affection, “I’m sorry.” She pecked his lips before pulling back and smiling at him with his favourite smile.  _His_  smile. The smile that she reserved just for him and that he was lucky to witness.

He pulled her back in, holding her in a tight, warm embrace until he convinced himself that she wasn’t a mirage. Her lips tasted sweet, like the wine she was drinking, and she tasted like  _Natasha_. The flavour that had him addicted to kissing her and worshipping her body like a devoted servant.

“I’m okay,” she assured him, pressing the palm of her hand against his face and caressed the smooth skin.

Steve nodded, turning his head slightly to kiss her hand and murmured, “I know.”

Natasha smiled,  _his_  smile and her eyes twinkled like emerald gemstones as she took his hand and led him down the corridor into the empty room. The mattress they had slept on many times was propped up against the wall and in the centre of the room was a white cotton sheet, two pairs of slippers and a bowl of water with three tubes of paint.

Steve raised an eyebrow, quietly analysing the objects as he tried to figure out what she was doing. Well, what the surprise was.

“I know how much you like painting,” the corners of her lips morphed into a smirk as she pictured his reaction to what they were about to do, “and I thought this would be a fun way for you to use my body as a canvas.”

“Pardon?” He cleared his throat, the rim of his ears turning a slight shade of pink, “Your body as a canvas? I don’t…I don’t understand.”

Natasha grinned, sexy and knowingly. “Steve, darling, I know you more than I know myself. I see the way you look at me when you paint. It’s endearing, really and kind of sexy that you consider my body such a…”

“Work of art?” He offered, his breathing slightly hitching as he began to realise just what was happening. Christ, she was perfect. She really did know him better than he knew himself. She knew his secrets, his sadness, his  _fantasies_ ; she  _knew_  him.

That earned him a chiming laugh and she nodded. “Yes, a ‘work of art.’ So, I thought that this would be a nice way to spend our evening.” For added effect, she placed her wine glass on the makeshift table near the door and slowly slid the ties of the robe, off.

Underneath was the masterpiece that he would never achieve to capture on paper. The beauty that artists so desperately tried to paint but would never be able to. Any copy of Natasha Romanoff paled in comparison to the woman standing in front of him.

He stood in place, entranced by her femininity and the curves and lines of her body. “Have I told you,” His voice rasped, full of desire and lust, “that you are the  _smartest_  woman I’ve ever met?”

She tilted her head to the side, her red curls brushing against her slender collarbone and he clenched his fists at his sides, itching to run them through her silken hair. “That’s a  _little_  biased, but I like hearing it.”

“The smartest,” he gulped, “the most beautiful.” His eyes raked over her body, the blue in them darkening as his mind filled with the memory of her sounds, taste and kisses. Goodness, he was obsessed.

Natasha smiled again,  _his_  smile and leaned down to grab her wine glass. Steve watched with attentive eyes as her lips curved over the rim of the glass and she took a slow, rather seductive sip. Her eyes were filled with all the promises of their evening, they were dark and inviting, awakening every cell in his body.

She stepped toward him, draping an arm over his shoulder, while the other held her wine, and glanced up at him through dark eyelashes. She stood on her tiptoes, trying to reach his face and brushed her rosy lips against his. “I want you to paint me like one of your French girls, soldier.”

He understood  _that_  reference!

A small laugh rumbled in the back of this throat and his eyes stared intensely into hers. “The only  _woman_ ,” he corrected, lifting his hand to trace the curve of her face, “I want to paint is Russian.”

Steve cupped her face, pulling her closer and breathed out softly as their lips moulded against each other passionately. His four front teeth grazed her bottom lip and he tugged at it lightly, earning a soft moan. He smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressed her against his body, loving the warmth emanating from her soft skin.

Suddenly, holding the wine glass was a chore. She wanted to throw it and wrap her arms around him, run her fingers through his silk hair, but the wine was expensive, and she would regret it once the heat of the moment passed.

“Steve,” she breathed, pressing herself closer, letting her desires take over, “gotta put the glass down.”

He nodded, forcing himself to stop and admired her as she quickly placed the glass on the makeshift table and practically sprinted into his arms. Her lips pressed against his immediately, stopping the laugh that rumbled through his chest as he welcomed her eagerness.

Natasha relaxed in his arms, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and caressed her hands against his body as much as she could. She ran her fingers through his hair, stroked his cheeks, squeezed his shoulders and scraped her nails against his back.

“Jesus, Nat…” He whispered hoarsely as she began a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down his jaw. She sucked with a bit of pressure against the hollow of his neck, receiving a satisfied groan and he tilted his head back, granting her the access she wanted.

She nibbled on the spot underneath his ear, the skin was sensitive, full of nerves that loved the feel of her smooth tongue. He grunted, squeezing her ass in response to the satisfaction she was gifting him.

Steve held her tightly, but careful not to hurt her. It wasn’t fair that she was the only one that was naked, but by god did her mouth on his skin felt wonderful.

“Put me down,” she breathed out, slightly panting as the passion turned her into a frenzied mess. He obliged, gently placing her in front of him and she gulped, staring at him with dark eyes. “Take your clothes off.” Her voice was low and hoarse, completely sexy.

He flashed her a cheeky grin as he reached for the hem of his shirt. “Yes, ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes, gnawing on her bottom lip as she watched him anxiously, wishing that he would just rip his shirt off. They had done that before and it was probably more pornographic than anything she had ever experienced before.

Maybe it was the strength he exerted or just the fact that he was in need of her body just as much as she needed his. Either way, it was hotter than sin.

He quickly kicked his jeans off and she licked her lips hungrily. He smiled, boyish and charming as he began to slide his boxers off and she held back a groan.

Steve Rogers was not a virgin. He was not a prude; he was a tease and he was damn good at it.

“Steve!”

He laughed, kicking his boxers to the side and reached for her. She danced into his arms, the movement graceful and sensual. His lips welcomed hers enthusiastically and she moaned into his mouth as his hands began to explore the curves he loved so much.

His fingers brushed over the bullet wound scar and she shivered, biting his bottom lip before he swiped his tongue over hers. It became a dance of tongues and lips; a tango of kisses and unspoken  _I love you’s_.  

Steve slid his hand over the curvature of her ass, squeezing it tightly, probably leaving a red mark behind, before he slid his hand further down to lift her thigh. She sighed in bliss as he lifted her off the ground and gracefully managed to kneel them unto the floor.

A lazy smile framed her full lips and he crawled over her body, kissing her gently, almost reverently. His hands cupped her hips, caressing them gently as he kneeled over her, kissing and licking his favourite freckles and moles.

When his lips brushed over her scars, she hissed in a breath, arching her body off the cold floor and silently begging him to get her out of her misery.

He might have been a captain, but he followed her orders without question. Steve trailed a line of teasing kisses down her body, down her stomach, skipping over her centre, down her thighs and calves and stopping at her ankles.

She gave out a soft giggle – although Natasha didn’t  _giggle_ , it was the sexiest little laugh she could possibly give him. But his lips were soft, and her skin was sensitive and ticklish.

Natasha closed her eyes, relaxing against the floor as she tried to focus her attention on the torturous but pleasurable foreplay and Steve smirked when she moaned as his inquisitive fingers found a weak spot between her thighs. He didn’t touch where she  _needed_  him to touch, but he teased around, loving the winces and lip-biting she did.

He crawled back up, resting the side of his cheek against her thigh before slowly spreading them apart. Her eyes snapped open and she glanced up at him with  _need_  and  _please-fuck-me-already_  eyes.

Finally – right before she was ready to beg – he pressed a gentle kiss to her inner thigh. She gulped, raising her hips in hopes that he stopped teasing and went straight for her centre. He did just that.

There was no warning, no preparation for his hot tongue spreading her lower lips apart. He had been so gentle when he kissed down her body, working her up to exasperation, but when he finally licked at the spot, she was a goner.

Her eyes rolled back, and her heels rolled up and down against the floor as he held her thighs down, devouring her like a starving man. His lips were ruthless – gentle, yes, but ruthless because they kissed and licked  _everywhere_  but her clit.

He glanced up at her, smiling at her when her eyes snapped open. He stopped, and she needed to desperately climax. An almost primal look overcame his features as he raised her hips and brought her lower body up to him. Her legs dangled over his shoulders as he burrowed his face between her legs.

His tongue was a gift from the gods, there was no other logical explanation that made  _sense_. He knew where to tease, where to suck and what to avoid in order to bring her to the brink of wanton desire.

Natasha whimpered, clenching her fists tightly when the first orgasm hit. It was quick, like lightning striking her body and warming her. She squirmed and cried out, arching her back as he continued kissing her pussy through the orgasm.

As the ecstasy died out, she smiled up at him content and satisfied. She expected him to lay her down again and kiss her before finally fucking her against the floor. Not because he was satisfied with getting one orgasm from her, but because they had other plans in mind.

But it seemed that  _her_  plans didn’t quite match with  _his_  plans.

He smirked, watching as she pushed back her red locks and breathed in heavily before sliding his tongue down her slit slowly. It was a languid lick, the type that made her toes curls and her heart threaten to burst in her chest.

Steve held her hips, squeezing gently before continuing his gentle veneration. He had attacked her pussy at first, passionate and quick as he tried to get her to orgasm. But this time he was taking his time, he knew she was sensitive and overstimulation wasn’t  _that_  pleasurable.

He pressed a soft peck against her clit, making her laugh lazily and quietly before he began to lap at her wetness. That time her orgasm built up, cascading like a wave crashing into sharp rocks; it left a buzzing sensation afterwards, like the seafoam that adorned the metaphor.

“Steve,” she almost cried, “the paint is going to get cold.”

He nodded, slowly lowering her legs and she sighed. Her cheeks were flushed, a pretty rosy colour overtaking her features. It was a beautiful contrast to her skin; the red hair and the green eyes were definitely going to be his undoing. Her lips, her tongue, her laugh, her  _everything_  was going to undo him.

She pulled him down, entwining her fingers into his hair and she sighed against his mouth. God, she loved him. “We have about five minutes. The paint dries fast, so you better make this quickie really good.”

“What?” He sounded a bit indignant, “I am not-”

Natasha laughed, sitting up to kiss him quiet. “You act like you haven’t fucked me in a shorter amount of time.”

He scowled, the memory flashing in his mind quickly. He hadn’t meant to fuck her against the wall of that dingy alleyway! She just knew which buttons to push and how to play him like a marionettist.

“A quickie doesn’t mean you have performance issues, Rogers,” she teased, rolling on her back to force herself up. Every time he gave her an orgasm, she felt a little wobbly afterwards. She just hoped that the Avengers never had to assemble after he made her cum. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to slip into the catsuit.

“That’s not my problem,” he smiled, a bit amused, “I just want to worship you.”

She rolled her eyes, reaching into the bowl to take the paint. The water was a little cooler now and she hoped that they hadn’t spent too much time fooling around. “You do that enough. Now I want you to fuck me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He let out a little growl as she smirked and pointed at the cotton canvas for him to lay on.

She squeezed the white paint on his chest first, grinning widely as he watched her intently. He loved her so much he could never get enough of her smile. Her sweet smile turned wicked as she lowered the tube down his body to squeeze it over his navel and the short patch of fuzzy hair above his dick.

Natasha sat over him, letting out a melodious laugh when his dick jumped at her touch. “Hey there, little soldier.” Steve scowled. “Okay, he’s  _anything_  but little. How about ginormous-”

“Natasha!”

She threw her head back, laughing and he quickly sat up, reaching for the blue paint next to them. In a swift movement, she found herself trapped under him. Her laughter caught in her throat as he squeezed the paint over her breasts and down her stomach.

He stopped to spread the paint over her body, squeezing her pink nipple as he coloured it blue and licked and kissed the other without any paint. She moaned, arching her back so that his palm was pressed firmer against her breast and bit her bottom lip as he nibbled the skin between his four front teeth.

Steve pulled back to admire his handiwork and she smirked, eyes glued to his chest and how delicious it looked with white paint dripping down. He pressed his palm on her breast, leaving behind the handprint and she grinned.

“Mhm,” she hummed in approval at the little territorial mark.

He chuckled, low and throaty, and pressed his painted hand against her cheek. She let out a soft laugh at the slightly sticky sensation and pulled him down on her closer with her legs. With a triumphant grin, she managed to flip them over, so that he was on his back again and she squeezed the rest of the white paint on him.

Strands of her red hair were sticking to her cheek with the paint and even though she looked  _messy_ , she was even more beautiful. The blue seemed to contrast breathtakingly against her skin. But his admiration of her could just be extreme since he was madly in love with her.

Once she finished the white tube, she grabbed the red and squeezed it over him in a zig-zag motion. He laid his hands against her hips, just watching as she concentrated on the artwork with a small smile on his lips. She made him inexplicably happy.

The tube made a flatulence-like noise and she let out an immature laugh. Steve joined in, loving how harmonious and  _different_  it was. Everyone was so used to the quiet Natasha, the Natasha that stayed in the shadows waiting for the moment to strike.

But this? This was  _his_  Natasha.

The Natasha that laughed at his silly jokes and teased him endlessly about his age. The Natasha that absolutely adored being cuddled and kissed and reserved her special smiles for  _him_.

Soon the three colours were spread on the canvas as laughter turned into moans and kisses served as a form of communication between the two lovers. Handprints covered the corners as ecstasy filled their bodies.

The kisses that began as playful and teasing banter turned into frantic passion. Their orgasm was dancing right above their fingertips, just above their reach as they rolled around the red, white and blue canvas.

When she read about the product, she expected to be fucked on the floor. Steve had other ideas, though and she wasn’t about to let him get his way. He was trailing his red-covered finger over her breast softly, not exactly with the sexual intent she expected.

“You know,” she drawled, tilting her head back to look at him, “I bought this thinking that you were going to fuck me on it.”

He chuckled, propping himself on his elbow to scoot closer to her. “You’re bossy.” He kissed her though, sparking the passion between them again in a second.

His fingers skimmed down, reaching between her thighs and he began to rub her gently, eliciting out moans and grunts from her. She bit her bottom lip, arching her back off the canvas and held his shoulders as he slid a finger in gently.

Her body welcomed it eagerly, expanding and appreciating the newfound pressure. A gasp escaped her lips as he added another finger and then another and she found herself bucking her hips against his hand wildly. She was  _right there_!

Steve admired the way her breasts trembled and shook with every movement and he found himself entranced by her body yet again. Her lips parted, her cheeks became hollow as she moaned low and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Oh my  _god_!”

He slid his fingers out, rubbing the wetness against her clit to continue the stimulation, but she quickly shook her head and gasped out, “Fuck me.” Natasha reached down grabbing his hard dick and rubbed it affectionately before guiding him to her entrance.

Steve groaned, almost a mixture of a moan and a growl as her heat embraced him. It was like a warm welcome home after being outside in the freezing temperatures of winter. Natasha hissed a breath underneath him as her body accommodated to the needed intrusion.

He slowly adjusted his posture, pulling out and she bit her bottom lip, glancing up at him with pleading green eyes.  He leaned over her, holding most of his weight with his forearm and began to thrust slowly.

Blindly he searched for her mouth, wanting to kiss her and feel her plump lips against his. She groaned and hissed, shifting her hips as she tried to intensify the pleasure for them both. He pulled back just as she tried to kiss him, making her teeth graze against his jaw and he moaned in surprise at the sensation it sent through him.

Natasha smiled, continuing her ministrations down his neck and kissing any spot of his skin that she could reach in the position they were in.

“Christ, Nat…” He groaned, hoarse and deep, full of lust and satisfaction at the amalgamation of love and desire. “I love you.”

She shivered, reaching up to hold onto him tighter. Her nails left long, red marks down his back, making the paint she had playfully smeared on his back, accumulate under fingernails. The sensation, although slightly painful, was a good feeling. “Me too.”

He loved watching her unwind and lose herself in their passion.

Natasha nodded frantically, making her painted hair move all over the paint on their canvas as she licked the small bead of sweat on her upper lip. “ _God_ , Steve, me too!”

Her arms tightened around him as she desperately sought to make the almost non-existent space between them even smaller. She didn’t want to know where her body began and where his ended; she wanted to become one with him in mind, body and soul.

Steve pressed his forehead against the bow of her shoulder, right by her collarbone and panted against her skin with every thrust and shift of his hips. She was hot and wet and so  _familiar_. She was  _home_  and he would never be able to get enough of her.

“I’m close,” he panted lowly, right by her ear. His warm breath tickled the hypersensitive skin under her earlobe and she shivered under him, biting her lip and moaning when he hit  _that_  spot.

His fingers reached down, trying to make her reach her climax with him, and he rubbed her centre gently, but with enough pressure to earn encouraging moans.

The way his name left her mouth was perfection in itself. It was a plead, a  _prayer_ , an appreciation for having him in her life.

She thought that their relationship would ruin him, but she quickly found that it was her that would end in ruin – and she had never been more prepared to meet her destruction with opened arms.

Her orgasm was quick and glorious. She shivered and made inhuman noises to express just how  _good_  he made her feel. Steve grunted, jerking unsteadily as he felt his orgasm ricocheting through him.

The aftershocks came shortly after. He stumbled forward, pressing his full weight on her and she smiled, closing her eyes as the serenity and blissfulness satiated her.

Slowly she raised her hands to caress the muscles on his back. Even Michelangelo would never be able to sculpt someone like Steve Rogers. Her fingers threaded through his hair and he sighed in happiness.

A few minutes later, Steve stood up and looked down at her with mirthful eyes. She was covered in his handprints and mixed paint. Her face was flushed, and her hair was sticking to the paint on her cheeks. Right underneath her bottom lip was a smudge of paint and she smiled up at him like the vixen she was.

“See something you like, Rogers?”

He smiled, lending her a hand to help her up and gently captured her lips in a soft kiss. “This is by far the best painting I’ve ever done.”

She laughed, loud and happy, and it made his smile widen into a grin. He loved seeing her happy. “Come on, get in those slippers and let’s wash this off.”

He happily obliged, following her into the shower like a trained pup. The reason why they were in the shower had been messy, but the shower turned into another mess all in itself. It was full of wondering hands and coquettish laughter. The paint had dried on their skin, making the cleaning process a little hard, but it definitely made the time spent inside the bath unforgettable.

Natasha walked out just as Steve finished rolling the plastic covering into a ball to wash out later. He was wearing a pair of loose-fitted grey sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips and she leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom to admire the way his muscles contracted and adjusted to his movements.

She wolf-whistled, making him turn back to look at her with a boyish beam. “So, Mr. Big Artiste-” another reference that he understood, “-what do you think of our artwork?”

Steve smiled down at their creation and wrapped his arm around her waist. He pulled her in to kiss her temple gently and murmured, “I think it’s a masterpiece.”

Natasha nodded, wrapping her hand around his waist as she leaned into his embrace and looked down at the messy kaleidoscope of colours. “I think we should name it  _God Bless America_!”

He snorted, blushing at the sexual undertones she managed to add to the phrase. Only Natasha Romanoff could make that sound dirty.

“Get it?” She grinned cheekily, “Because-”

“I get it, Nat,” he interrupted, giving her a pointed look but the corners of his lips were rising in a happy smile.

Her green eyes brightened, and she turned to him. “ _No_! I know what we should call it!”

“What?”

“Cold War.”

He frowned. “Why?”

She smiled deviously, standing on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his as she whispered, “Because that’s when America fucked the  _shit_  out of Russia.”

His boisterous laughter was the only response she received.


End file.
